


Junkrat X Reader - Drink Up

by MilkySmile



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol, Drunk Reader, F/M, Girls Night Out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-19
Updated: 2016-08-19
Packaged: 2018-08-09 16:28:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7808935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MilkySmile/pseuds/MilkySmile
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Reader needs some help from her boyfriend after she drinks a bit too much.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Junkrat X Reader - Drink Up

The deafening sounds of music and laughter assulated your ears. The bright lights made your eyes water and the bitter liquor put a scowl upon your face. You clenched your eyes shut as the burning vodka ran down your flat tongue. Your esophagus felt scalded as it led the vodka to its demise within your stomach. You hiccuped and slammed your shot glass down on the table, your eyes connecting with Aleksandra's dark green ones. She leaned back in her chair with a triumphant smile, lights engulfing her teeth in rainbows of color from the lights above. You hiccuped again and looked at your multiple empty shot glasses, an impressive feat by your standards, but meager in comparison to the other woman.

It was ladies night out, and this meant clubbing and drinking, so here you were being cheered on by your friends, in an over cramped club as you drank liquid poison until your vision blurred. Maybe agreeing to a drinking game with the large Russian wasn’t the best of ideas. You drunkenly sighed, refusing to accept your defeat. You reached for the large glass bottle that held the remainder of the vodka to pour another shot, but you were stopped by a hand on top of your own.

“Alright love, I think you’ve had quite enough!” Lena laughed. You frowned at the Brit’s smile and retracted your hand from her own.

“It looks like the fille wants to drink,” Amélie purred, a sarcastic smile pulled upon her lips. Lena sighed and crossed her arms, some hair falling down over her forehead. Her peachy lips blew it back up into place and began to speak her mind. Interrupting her with a loud hiccup and a sickly moan, you flopped forward on to the table and leaned into your palms, violently rubbing your eyes as if trying to rub the nausea clean from your mind.

“I think I’m gonna be sick” you slurred. Fareeha placed a hand between your shoulder blades, giving you a sympathetic smile.

“I think this one has had a little bit too much to drink.”

“A little bit is an understatement!” Satya chuckled as she daintily sipped on her own rosy coloured drink. “I think it is time she was taken home. I don’t want to be embarrassed by her yet again showing us what she had for dinner.”

“Shall I call a taxi?” Angela stepped in just as Satya’s tone turned sour. The blonde was holding a rather large jug of beer, her eyes following you to the frothy brown alcohol she held in her grip. “We’ve all had too much to drink to be driving anyway.”

Aleksandra clasped a large hand on your shoulder and gave you a squeeze. 

“It was a privilege to drink with small woman!” she laughed. You felt her hand leave your shoulder and a smaller one take its place.

“________, Jamie’s going to come pick you up.” Lena gently whispered into your ear, seeming to understand the nauseated state you were in. “We could just call you a taxi you know? I could pay for it. I don’t trust that boyfriend of yours-”

“Thank you,” you interrupted as you raised your head from the table, booming speakers and epileptic lights making you cringe. Lena’s hand collected around your own as she led you outside the club, joking with security at the door about your mournful state. You didn’t care; you just wanted to go home and throw up.

You welcomed the cooler outside air into your lungs as you leaned against Lena. You were so unsteady on your feet you were certain it wasn’t just you; the ground must be moving or something. Leaning back against the cold brick wall and sighing, you began to slide down it. The jagged edges of the hard wall hitched up your shirt as you did so, exposing the small of your back and scratching it. Your ass hit the floor with a thump and you bought your knees up to your face. You tried in vain to concentrate on smell of the denim jeans that were pressed upon your nose, but even they seemed to be spinning. You just wanted it to stop.

You’re not sure how long you waited, but the sound of an old car exhaust choke and a loud Australian yell made you smile with relief. You couldn’t wait to be home.

“Now, what do we have here!” Jamison yelled over to you as he slammed the door of his old rusted farm ute. You lazily smiled up at him, your eyes seemingly unable to focus on the blonde man making his way to you. He seemed to blur into two polaroid pictures. The sound of his childish laughter and the clanks of his prosthetic leg upon the cement made your lips twitch into an even bigger smile. “You look a helluva mess!”

“Jam-” You cut yourself off with an acidity stream exploding from your mouth. You couldn’t stop it. You choked as your throat was constricted with the gag, your puke pooling in pungent puddle before you. Jamison let out a huge laugh at your state and grasped your hair back with his metallic palm, allowing you to finish your deed without interruption. It was awful. It felt as if you had sulfuric acid bubbling from within you. That and Jamie laughing at you didn’t help.

“Now that’s a mighty chunder!” he squealed as the unstoppable stream came to a halt. Your wobbly finger took the tissue that Lena held out to you and wiped your lips. Jamison helped you to your feet with a large smile. You looked at his face with a scowl, but his smile was quite contagious. You couldn’t help but let out a small giggle at your sorry self.

“I-I feel a bit better, I think,” you breathed.

“No wonder! I think you just chundered out all the booze you drank!” he chuckled, giving you a wink. His brown eyes were illuminated by the club light behind you, giving them a sweet honey look. You tried to ignore his sarcastic snickers and concentrate on his face. He looked rather cute tonight; the soot was cleaned from his usually stained skin, and the charred ends of his hair seemed to have broken off; his hair now a fresh creamy blonde. You were surprised your crazy boyfriend had any hair at all with the stupid shit he gets up to, or eyebrows for that matter. Cute blonde ones to match his hair. He was a cutie. Ugh.

You leaned into him like a plank, crashing into his chest. Nausea seeming to creep back up on you. You really did not want to puke again.

“Please take me home,” you grumbled into this shirt. “Bye Lena. Sorry for being sick.”

“Bye love. Take care of yourself please,” Lena smiled sweetly before turning to Jamison with a stern expression. “Take care of her. For once in your life, don’t be selfish.”

Jamison looked a bit taken back.

“And why don’t you mind your own damn business for once you cheeky pom?” he scoffed back. You growled into his chest in a clear sign that you wanted them to stop. You knew Lena and Jamison didn’t quite get along but now really wasn’t the time. They could gnaw at each other's throats another time, but right now you wanted to be engulfed in a sea of soft sheets and sleep.

Jamison quickly poked a childish tongue out at the Brit as he wrapped an arm around your waist to keep you secure. You clumsily leaned into him, breathing in his soot like smell. It reminded you of the distant smell of fire in the middle of a crisp winter, distracting you from the rising nausea that returned to your poor body. Matters were made worse when Jamison’s passenger door was too stubborn to open as if had been engulfed in rust, so you had to chaotically climb over his seat and steering wheel to your seat. 

Jamison leaned over and clicked your seat belt into place.

“Safety first,” he whispered, kissing your flushed cheek. He turned the key in the ignition multiple times, the old car eventually coughing and spluttering to life after a few desperate tries. Without even bothering with his own seat belt he pulled out of the parking spot. The large streetlights that littered the carpark illuminated his face. Your eyes trailed from his messy blonde hair down to his masculine nose and sharp chin. His adam’s apple was visible, casting a shadow over his throat. You felt like kissing his creamy white skin.

Without even leaving the club carpark, your palm was pressed up against the fabric that sheathed his cock. Jamison flinched in surprise at your sudden change of heart. His brown eyes flickered to meet your half lidded ones after he regained his steering.

“You like that?” you purred. You smirked, seeing the blurry figure of Jamison biting down on his lower lip made lust replace the drunken sickness. You attempted to unbutton his shorts, when you felt his member harden under your touch. Jamison flinched and seemed to lean into your palm, pressing his cock hard against your hand. Your short hiccup distracted Jamison from his pleasant trance. He used both hands to turn the steering wheel onto a larger highway, his defined muscles reflecting the green stoplight above the car. With a large sigh and a frustrated grind of his teeth, he placed his larger hand over your own and slid them from his hardening crotch to your own lap.

“As much as I’d like to fuck your brains out, babe, you’re drunk. I ain’t gonna do somethin’ like this when you're this liquored up.”

You pouted and leaned back in the uncomfortable ripped leather seat. Jamison’s actions were probably for the best since you were asleep within minutes, the sound of the deep rumble of the engine below you and Jamie’s steadied breathing soothing your intoxicated mind. Anyway, falling asleep mid handjob would have fueled a hilarious story for Jamison, that he would no doubt tease you for.

You were awoken with a pair of strong arms around your frame. Your eyes lazily flickered open. The street lights had lit up the building in front of you and you sighed with a smile. You were home. Jamison was trying to strategically remove you from the driver's door without waking you. He pulled you gently from inside the cramped car and pressed you against his chest. You nibbled on the thin fabric of his shirt and sleepily looked up at the Australian. He returned your gaze with a small but sweet smile and gave your forehead a peak.

“You’re even adorable when you're pissed,” he said with a chesty chuckle. “I'm fuckin rugged when I’m pissed. I don’t know how you do it.”

The familiar smell of your home filled your nostrils, when the two of you stepped through the front door. Jamison kicked the front door shut with his prosthetic leg, blocking the chilly outside air from entering your warm abode. He didn’t immediately place you down but instead carried you to your bed, lightly placing you down as if you were still asleep. Unlikely, since his prosthetic leg makes a hell of a lot of noise.

The Australian seemed to be tucking you in; pulling the covers up to your chin and giving you another soft kiss to your forehead before he turned and flicked off the light.

“Jamison,” you croaked, your throat sore from a night of laughing and drinking. He froze in the doorway, the hallway light pouring in from around his dark silhouette. “Where are you going?”

He flicked off the hallway light without reply. You felt the bed dip to your right as the man climbed in next to you. “I’m not going anywhere, love. Come here.”

He clinged onto you and you sighed into his skin. You loved this man, even if he was loud and obnoxious, and rather annoying, and had no sense of privacy; he was good to you. The room was filled with sleepy breaths and warm bodies, until your voice cracked the silence that embraced the room.

“Hey Jamie?”

“Mm?”

“I’m gonna be sick again.”

“Righto I’ll get you a bucket, mate.”


End file.
